


Part II: The Breath that Drowned a Man

by uirukii



Series: Turn the Century [2]
Category: The Monstrumologist Series - Rick Yancey
Genre: Modern AU, Multi, Turn the Century AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 03:17:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7342477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uirukii/pseuds/uirukii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After living with Doctor Pellinore Warthrop for almost a year, Will Henry thinks he understands the doctor very well, with the exception being his strange friendship with the enigmatic Dr John Kearns. The man turns up at any hour of the day, more often than not with a macabre specimen in tow and an incorrigible grin. However, an unfortunate choice of words erupts into a violent disagreement between the two men and Dr Kearns leaves, unseen for months. Despite this, something pulls at them that neither can explain and so begins their journey from the quiet suburbia of New Jerusalem to the backwoods of West Virginia, where a parasitic entity exists that drowns people even as they breathe. It is here among the perils of secret deaths and people who all seem to have something desperate to hide that the three of them must confront what lies between them. (Dec 2001-Oct 2002)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Part II: The Breath that Drowned a Man

**Author's Note:**

> Folio IV: Oenomel  
> “What makes a home? asked the boy, fingers trailing along the books—books upon books swaddled in dust and debris—dozens of soot-faced stories built into the walls. And they trembled in that lonely house, for they could not provide an answer.”

If there is one thing to be said about holidays, it is their tendency to be memorable for something other than the holiday cheer and good times.  For Will Henry, his first Christmas at 425 Harrington Lane topped all others, for he had gotten lice.

Perhaps if one asked him to elaborate, he’d point out that it was actually Dr Warthrop, eminent scientist and residential boogeyman, that had received the lice for Christmas. But then again for most people, they would probably look at Will even more confused than before.

It was a standard package box, sealed with packing tape and several stickers marked ‘This End Up!’ Will had thought nothing of it, thinking it was another batch of lab equipment the doctor had ordered. But when he placed it on the table, the doctor had let out an exclamation of joy and demanded Will open it immediately, for it was none other than a parcel from his mentor, Dr von Helrung, head of the Society for the Study of Aberrant Biology.  

Will, however, treated the box as if it might contain blood-sucking parasites, which given the circumstances, probably was.

But the doctor was beyond excited, his haggard unwashed face nearly radiant with joy like a child given the chance to unwrap a gift on Christmas Eve as he hovered around Will.

Not that it was too far a comparison, for it was indeed Christmas Eve that said parcel had arrived. Dr Warthrop nearly shoved his young assistant out of the way when he finished, for once he saw the shipping day was only yesterday, he knew what his long-time mentor had sent him would be worth his time in gold.

Hair askew and fingers snapping for Will to put on the tea, Warthrop had thrown open the box and scooped out handfuls of packing peanuts to reveal his mentor’s gift. And what a gift it was!

Like a hunter his trophies, the doctor had removed two identical jars, small and filled to the top with cotton and—

“Lice, Will Henry! Oh, I have been waiting for their results in this! I would not have thought they have come to their conclusion so soon in regards to the evolutionary divergence of the body and head louse from its common ancestor! Dr von Helrung had mentioned Dr Prociv, Baily and Petersen’s research before to me in passing, but to think they already at the peer evaluation stage!” He held the jar up to his eye and peered into the glass at the collection of small pale insects collected at the bottom like a mass of dandruff.

He jostled each jar with a critical eye before placing both of them on the table with a sigh. “It would be much more beneficial if the specimens were alive, Will Henry. But seeing as they are dead, it would seem the research they wish me to regard doesn’t warrant them being in such a state.” Drumming his fingers on the table, he reached into the box and pulled out a packet of papers.

“Ah, and here is the full treatise—and it would seem that they are pursuing their original hypothesis indeed! Marvelous!”

But despite the man’s full attentions concentrated on the ‘great research’ before them, the young boy wasn’t as enthralled as he was about two jars full of dead insects. He gave the jars the same glance one would give finding roadkill on the curb, before looking back to the box.

Like any young boy awaiting his first Christmas with an anxiety that nearly threatened to drown him it, Will was more interested in the rest of the box’s contents. For when the doctor had removed his prize, Will had spied two wrapped gifts nestled at the bottom of the box. He nearly couldn’t contain his heart-stammering joy when he saw that although one was addressed to the doctor in loopy writing, one was addressed to _him._

Him, the small little orphan boy that had come to the conclusion that he wasn’t going to have a real Christmas for the second year in a row.

Will gingerly took out the gift with the tartan wrapping and ran his finger over the sight of his name.

Last year, his family wasn’t able to celebrate Christmas, and Will had understood why. Accepted it. Waited patiently for the new year to arrive where his father would get better by his birthday. And finally they would return to normal, his father teasing him about getting socks for Christmas or his mother making his favorite cheesecake with the rainbow candles.

But like most wishes, it didn’t happen.

A few months later, Will had lost his parents and had to live with the doctor. The one man his father had devoted more of this life to than his own wife and son, for though he loved them very much, the doctor’s work had always come first and that meant a lot of time away from home. But unlike his father, the doctor was as far removed from his beaming smiles and jovial expressions as one could ever be.

Dr Pellinore Warthrop was a well-known figure in the town of New Jerusalem, regarded by most as a strange and eccentric man who did not abide by normal customs such as maintaining a healthy lawn or showing the remotest interest in other peoples’ lives. Most people often wondered why such a man resided in a small inconsequential town like theirs when most scientists often moved to the city where other like-minded individuals lived and shared their interests. As it was, Dr Warthrop was a very reclusive man as well, which only added to the ever-present rumors that fed the local populace of middle-aged ladies and children ready for a good local scare.

The newly added and much talked about rumor involved the doctor’s new charge, the small scrawny boy that only some remembered belonging to the Henrys (Will found out it did good for the rumor mills to believe Warthrop had merely snatched him from the streets like a _real_ mad scientist).

Many people thought it strange that the cold and austere man they had bumped into every once in a while would even consider taking in a child, much less actually following through, and it was often one of their favorite things to comment on every time they met the boy in public. Not that they asked the child himself what the truth was, merely just asking him to verify with what they believed it was.

But Will, like the doctor, often kept to himself, feeling very uneasy at the random bits of unwanted attention tossed his way. In response to their curiosity at how he came to live with Dr Warthrop, Will would politely answer with as little information he could muster before running off to finish whatever errand or task he was sent to do. The doctor had taken him in and that was all the information Will was willing to give.  

But that was not the entirety of it. For a few agonizing months, Will had been given up for adoption to another family, one that the doctor thought was more appropriate for a boy who had lost everything he owned and loved. Will had gone to live with the niece of Dr Warthrop’s life-long mentor, Mrs Bates, who was a married mother and had two children of her own. She had been advocating taking Will ever since hearing of his plight and welcomed Will with open arms and a loving smile, doing her best to make sure he didn’t feel abandoned.

But in the end, the doctor had returned for him. And Will, who had wanted nothing more than to return back to that home despite all that had happened, had given up that picture-perfect chance at a normal family to live with him. If asked why, Will could not answer, for the feelings he had entangling the doctor was not one he could unravel, much less decipher.

Will was not a naïve boy. Nor was he stupid. He knew that in choosing to live with Dr Warthrop, what most people considered ‘normal’ simply did not happen. Three square meals had to be wrangled at best and a full night’s sleep was truly a blessed gift whenever he was able to get it. Unwashed cups and dust bunnies were as often tackled as Will’s own homework, cropping up like mushrooms after a rainstorm.

The doctor lived for his work and nothing else, staying up late and hardly sleeping himself, his gaunt and often unwashed body managing to sustain itself purely on work and tea alone. That and whatever sustenance his newly adopted assistant got him to eat. Even afterwards when he crashed and fell into the melancholia of ennui and self-pity, it was all part of Will’s role to stay by his bedside and tend to his needs, philosophical, earthy or otherwise.

Will thought he was quite sure what he was signing up for when he chose to live with Dr Warthrop, just like his father did when he chose to serve him for all the years before his death. Though the opinion of Dr Warthrop as a harsh and exacting man, slave to the relentless pursue of his profession wasn’t unfounded, Will was also one of the select few that was privy to the passion and desire that simmered beneath that exacting and rigid persona that was Dr Pellinore Warthrop. Will had chosen to live with him and with that, chose to be a willing participant in his pursuit of knowledge of all things monstrumological, the singular passion that made Warthrop who he was.

Seeing the man completely engrossed in his paper, Will returned to the package in his hands. Body thrumming with excitement, he carefully tugged free the wrapping and nearly gasped.

Inside the neatly wrapped parcel was a brand new Yankees t-shirt along with a new notebook, completely emblazoned with the Monstrumological Crest of the doctor’s scientific Society.

The wrapping paper fluttered to the floor. The crest glistened gold as it shook in the little boy’s hand.

Will knew exactly who had gotten him the gift. He clutched the shirt tightly.

Though Will did not understand the broken ties that existed between the him and Dr Warthrop, Dr Chanler had been the nicest and friendliest man towards him during all that he been through the past year, especially after Will had moved to New York to live with the Bates. He had taken Will to work with him, allowing him to see his friend Clarky, who also attended the afterschool program Chanler was in charge of. Furthermore, he gave Will a sense of normalcy like taking him out to eat or having a day out at the park.

Will placed the book on the table and immediately took off his shirt to try on his new gift. Goosebumps broke over his tummy, but he didn’t care. The shirt though baggy, was soft and Will smiled openly when he saw how nice it looked on him. He especially loved how big and bright the baseball logo was since none of his current clothes had any sort of design on them whatsoever. The doctor was not a man given into bouts of whimsy or color.

In moment of pure happiness, Will gave himself a little spin, watching the overly large shirt flutter about his bony frame like one of Sarah’s dresses. He felt so happy, he could burst at any moment. So he giggled, happy that not only had he received some little gifts from his friends at school, but from someone that he had come to look up to that had remembered him.

Will tugged at his shirt, admiring it once more. Then he looked to the table and froze.

Dr Warthrop was looking at Will, a perplexed tilt to his brows and a frown marring his lips.

“What is that, Will Henry?”

Will fiddled with shirt. If there was one thing he didn’t want the doctor to know, it was that though he was happy that he had gotten something from everyone else, it was _him_ that he really wanted a gift from, even if a Christmas didn’t come with it. It was foolish thinking as the man hadn’t even made note of any other previous holiday nor even acknowledged this one, despite it doing its best to make itself known at every turn, from the festive-themed food at the grocery store to the decorations that were literally everywhere they went.

“Well, Will Henry?” The doctor laid down his paperwork.

“I got it from the box, sir. Dr Chanler sent them. There’s one for you too.”

His brows rose. “Dr Chanler sent me something?”

Will rubbed his arm. “Well, I’m not sure because he didn’t sign it or anything. But he likes baseball so I think it’s from him.”

Warthrop looked into the box and snagged his own gift out. He looked over it as if it could be something lethal. He squished it in his hands. “Mm. More likely that Abram bought these and asked John for his input on what to purchase for you. This is not his handwriting.”

Will deflated a little, but then swelled up again with the thought that _both_ the doctor’s ex-best friend and his mentor had collaborated on getting him something. Maybe that was why he had two presents!

Warthrop tossed a wad of paper on the ground and was curiously eyeing his own gift, which as a small collection of patterned socks. They were all science-themed, one pair having little bacteria on them and another having a microscope on each cuff.

Will was stunned. The doctor had an impressive mismatched sock collection, but none as garish as those! Will for sure thought Dr Chanler had to have a hand in picking those out somehow.

With a shrug, Warthrop laid them aside and picked up his packet of papers again. Then he caught Will staring at him.

“What is it, Will Henry? Why are you looking at me like that? Meister Abram always sends me socks near the end of the year. For whatever reason, he’s got it in his head that I end a constant replenishing of socks. Though I will admit…this year’s set is a trifle…gaudy.” Warthrop made a face at the gift then returned to more important matters.

“In regards to this. In reading my fellow monstrumologists’ proposal, what we have here are two specimens of lice: _Pediculus humanus humanus_ and _Pediculus humanus capitis._ Body lice and head lice respectively.” He lifted each and gave them a jostle. “What they have been researching is precisely why and how these two subspecies of lice have diverged upon their evolutionary path into almost two separate species, yet still are considered for all intents and purposes one singular species, _Pediculus humanus_. Not unlike our work with the roundworms, Will Henry!

“Now as you may have deduced, their names refer to the locale in which they breed and live. It is one of the ways in which they differ as they cannot live outside it for longer than a few days at most if they have just recently fed. Not only must they live in that particular part of the body, but they cannot breed with each other outside of the laboratory and even then, their offspring is completely sterile.”

Gesturing over to the small boy, Warthrop placed the jars within his reach. Will bent over to look into the jars, which thanks to it being close to lunch, made him a little queasy. Even though they were all dead, they had the color of old dead skin. He didn’t want to imagine any of them crawling on him.

“As you can see, they look similar to each other. Same coloration, same markings, same size. In fact, they don’t look any different! Would you be able to tell which is which if I were to remove the labels, Will Henry?’

Will shook his head. “No, sir.”

Warthrop grinned. “Precisely! That is what has been baffling scientists since the 70’s once they realized there was major behavioral and breeding differences between the two! Before they thought it was the same species! The lowly body louse, bane to soldiers everywhere within the mud-filled trenches and its counterpart the head louse, plague of schoolchildren!” He snatched the two jars and nearly bounded to the basement. His voice echoed back as he called for Will to join him.

“Bring me my cup of tea too, Will Henry! My corroboration on his matter is not only urgent, but specifically requested. We have long hours ahead of us, Will Henry! And I will not waste another minute dallying about with anything else!”

Will sighed, looking around the freshly cleaned kitchen to the wrapping paper and peanuts strewn everywhere. But Dr von Helrung’s package had done the trick. Instead of the nearly month-long depression the doctor had been laboring under, having no work from his beloved science to attend to and not even Will’s attempts at distracting him could mollify, the doctor now had a purpose again.

Will snagged the mug and followed the monstrumologist into the basement, forever at the ready for the next new adventure in his eccentric guardian’s life.

 

***

 

Will woke up Christmas morning firmly believing that God had a wicked sense of humor, if nothing else. He bolted from his bed and without bothering to even dress himself, ran to the bathroom.

Because he might not have gotten what he wanted for Christmas, but the doctor sure did.

Will was absolutely appalled as he tore off his pajamas and found it infested with a few crawling lice having a jolly time being very much alive! And in his new shirt no less!

Will shuddered and stripped down before tossing the clothes into the hamper. He threw in the towels as well. He wasn’t taking any chances.

He ran up his little ladder, stripped his bed down and threw that down the hole along with his clothes from yesterday. By the time he chucked himself under the scalding hot showerhead, Will was shivering heavily from the cold.

After scrubbing his head and body twice until he was nearly rubbed raw, Will dug in the linen closet for a fresh towel and huddled under it as he climbed back upstairs for new clothes. Still freaked out at waking up to intense itching from the lice and the gross feeling of imagining them crawling on his skin, Will inspected every wrinkle and crevice in his clothes for the tiny parasites. Satisfied in not finding even the remotest speck on his black shirt or jeans, Will slapped on his clothes with the speed of a kid caught streaking.

Finally dressed and presentable, Will then took out every piece of clothing he owned and threw those through the trapdoor as well.

By the time he had a load of wash churning in the garage and another on its way, Will trudged into the kitchen, exhausted, hungry and a little paranoid that the parasitic lice might be lurking on every single surface that he and the doctor had touched yesterday.

All through the afternoon and well into the evening, Warthrop had lectured Will for hours while he observed the creatures under his magnifying glass and microscope while Will sat in his chair. Will had always thought that what Warthrop did for a living had to be constant excitement and adventure, judging from everything his dad had told him by his bedside, but nearly falling asleep to the doctor’s lecture was beginning to prove otherwise.

However, in the wake of being infected with something the doctor had complained quite loudly was dead, Will was now of the mindset that perhaps the excitement of actual living parasites were not what he needed in his life. He was also now hesitant to believe that in what the doctor had said about them not being able to survive without their host. Will was sure he could imagine them scuttling along the kitchen table like a bunch of ants ready to hop aboard an unwilling boy when they felt like it.

Digging under the sink, he snatched his trusty cleaner and gave both the counters and the table a thorough spritz and scrubbing before finally attending to breakfast.  

Will let out a satisfied moan as he sat down at the table to a bowl of cereal. The purifying scent of lemon and the fact his favorite bowl was back and not housing something indescribable had lightened his mood and he enthusiastically dug into his bowl of Fruit Loops. He had just finished, and was putting on a kettle for tea when Warthrop came trudging up the stairs, scratching at his unwashed hair.

“Ah, excellent, Will Henry. That was exactly what I was coming up here for.” He scratched his head some more.

Will eyed him suspiciously and fished around for a clean mug, and putting the ones loitering on the countertop into the sink.

When he hiked up his shirt to scratch his back, Will couldn’t help himself. He put the cup down and blurted, “Are you infected, sir?”

Warthrop shot Will a dark look. “What are you insinuating by that, Will Henry?”  He scratched his armpit.

Will fidgeted with what to say, because _what do you say_ when you think someone close to you could be crawling with lice? The boy shuddered and tromped down the urge to gag. Well, obviously you have to say something!

“Nothing sir, but I found lice in my bed today.” Will kept himself distracted by preparing the doctor’s tea. He took a breath. “And like you told me last night, their main symptoms are itching. On the body or head. Sir.”

“The specimens were dead upon arrival, Will Henry. Or did they seem to scuttle to life when I wasn’t looking?”

But the image of the little tiny bugs in this clothes wouldn’t go away. “You said that they could live for a day or two if they fed first. So maybe…some were…sleeping? Or playing dead?”

Warthrop stomped over to Will to nab his mug. His eyes narrowed as Will quickly scurried away from Warthrop. “Lice are not opossums, Will Henry. They do not _play dead_.”

He gave Will a critical eyeball. “You really do think I have become infected with lice,” he stated, taking a sip of his tea. Then he scratched himself again.

“I think you should check, sir. I mean…I found some on me…” Will tried not to look at the doctor. He toed the ground.  

“Well, that’s because you are a child, Will Henry. It is a common enough occurrence that children become infected with lice at some point or another due to their unhygienic activities.”

Will stared at the doctor, wearing the same ragged shirt and same pair of stained sweatpants for the last week. And due to how limp his shaggy hair was when he scratched his head, Will knew for sure he hadn’t bathed during that time either. Then he stared some more when Warthrop wiped his hands on his shirt.

Shooting Will the same exasperated look he always did when he believed the boy was purposely making him out to be the fool, Warthrop huffed and laid down his mug.

“I don’t know why you keep looking at me like that, Will Henry. Now if we may cease this line of nonsensi—“

Suddenly the doctor jerked upright, a peculiar expression to his features. Without any warning, he yanked off his shirt. Wide-eyed, he held it over the sink. He ran his fingers over the seams and tilted his head, trying to discern something in the weak light from the window.

“Fetch my tweezers and a petri dish, Will Henry,” he called, bringing the sleeve close to his face and squinting. “Make sure there’s a lid to it as well!”

Will bolted down the stairs to the basement, past the doctor’s desk with the proposal and his additions to it, past the dissection table where he had laid out the insects to examine and to the back countertop where slides upon slides lay in discarded piles next to Warthrop’s microscope. A couple of petri dishes lay with the remains of the dead lice and Will kept well away from those, plucking a fresh one from the cart as well as another set of tweezers.

He ran back up the stairs, armed with his tools, only to find the doctor in his boxers now, looking that the seams of his sweatpants. The shirt was hanging over the dish-basket like a forgotten tea towel.

Will bowed his head and rubbed his eyes with his hand.

Nope, the doctor was still there, face nearly shoved into his pants wearing nothing but his old boxers.

“Ah, over here, snap to!” Warthrop waved Will over impatiently from where he stood staring. Without even looking at Will’s pained face, Warthrop snatched the tweezers.

“Now hold the petri dish steady as I collect these specimens, Will Henry. To think, I now have some live samples to test the divergent qualities of these creatures! However, it is a pity that we do not have their counterparts to test it with.”

Will watched in horrid fascination as the doctor, finding nothing on his sweats, tossed them to the ground and took the shirt in one hand while plucking free several small grains from the seams.

“Closer, bring it closer, Will Henry! I don’t want to accidentally crush them. It is only a small infestation since a majority of them were dead as to be expected. But it’s truly astounding that a small number had managed to find their ways onto our clothing! The sheer tenacity of living things to live is simply astounding!” He hummed as he deposited several more parasites into the dish.

Will unhappily noted that they seemed to take the doctor’s word as encouragement to crawl around the edge of the dish. He sincerely hoped they couldn’t climb glass.

“What about head lice, sir?”

“What about them, Will Henry?”

Will shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “You don’t have any live ones?” He eyed the doctor dubiously.

Warthrop shot Will a scathing glare. “I am quite sure on that. Unless I have been sticking my head in things where it doesn’t belong, _Will Henry,_ then there is no possible mode where I could have contracted head lice. Which you would have noted if you were paying attention to how I pointed out that they can only be passed by head-to-head contact or contact with a surface that has touched an infected head like a towel or pillow.” The doctor eyed Will suspiciously. “Do you have head lice then, Will Henry?”

Will vehemently shook his head. “No, sir!” Not that he was entirely sure, but he wasn’t even going to contemplate the possibility. He was starting to believe that even entertaining the idea made him susceptible for it coming true.

“Hmm, I could only find seven of them. Did you collect your samples? It would be good data to note how many in the batch were still alive.”

“No, I didn’t!” Will exclaimed, as he stuck the lid on the dish. He turned red when the doctor looked at him like that should have been the most obvious course to take. “I mean, I was itchy and when I saw them…I just did the wash. To prevent them from spreading. Like you said last night, sir.”

Warthrop washed his hands. “Well, I should be glad that you paid enough attention to know how to eradicate them, but that was good data lost. Next time, collect them.” He turned off the tap and toweled his hands dry.

“Now to the basement, Will Henry!” Warthrop snagged the petri dish from Will’s hands and made for the door.

“Uh, sir?”

“What is it this time, Will Henry? These will not survive without nourishment for more than a day or two; we cannot dally!”

Will nearly backpedaled and let the doctor get on with his business. But the phantom feeling of dirty little parasites crawling over him again was enough to keep him from doing so. That and Will was completely sure the doctor was starting to develop his signature fragrance. “Shouldn’t you shower, sir? To prevent more? And to keep the basement clean for your work?”

At that, Warthrop rubbed his whiskery chin. He hummed, contemplating the suggestion. Then he snapped his fingers.

“Bring this down to the lab then,” he answered, holding out the specimens. “I expect to see you in the basement when I return. I’ll need your help recording as I utilize the microscope to observe their behavior.” Then he left.

Will went downstairs and carefully placed the doctor’s find next to his microscope for later.

Once Will heard the creaking groan of the piping rushing with hot water, Will ran up the stairs and snatched all the doctor’s dirty sheets and blankets as well as his laundry hamper. He made sure to nab his boxers too. The doctor’s discarded sweats and shirt joined the batch as well, dragging it all to the garage. Luckily for Will the washing was done, so in went the doctor’s load. With both machines chugging along at full capacity, Will tucked himself in the basement, keeping well away from the dissection table and the doctor’s examination bench.

He waited and for the first time that Christmas Day, let himself daydream.

 

***

 

It was cold and frost lined the windowsill outside, etching itself onto the glass like delicate drawings.

Rummaging around his bed, Will took one of the doctor’s bizarrely long socks he pilfered and tucked it around the base of his plant. Will knew the doctor wouldn’t miss it; for some strange reason it was the only sock he had that absurdly long.

Will hated it. Especially when he caught the doctor wearing it with a short sock. So now he repurposed it.

Carefully maneuvering the ruler next to the stalk of his little plant and making sure to move the sock out of the way, Will measured its height and jotted down the new data into his lab book. It had only grown a few millimeters over the week, but it was making progress. Come spring, he hoped it would be strong enough where he could plant it in a pot he could leave outside. But for now, it hoped it reached the height it needed to be for his lab class.

Will closed his book and placed it on his nightstand. He yawned and feeling the chill finally seeping in, tucked his legs into his old hoodie and laid his head on his knees.

Outside, the snow flitted like bright confetti, wheeling against the backdrop of inky black and dustings of pale vermillion from the single streetlamp. In the fresh blanket of snow, his footsteps wavered, vanishing little by little into the night.  

It was becoming a terribly cold winter, much more so than last year or what Will remembered of it. Too much of his memory of that time was engulfed with the feeling of burning and that was a sensation he refused to let himself remember.

Snatching his quilt, Will wrapped it about himself like a cocoon. Tomorrow will be a new year. And just like last year, there was a lot he wished would happen. But Will was a boy that had grown too fast in the past months, learning that for everything you wished, there was often regret. And for every regret, there was guilt.

Will Henry looked at the little light-blue dresser across from him, with its old chipped paint and handsomely carved handles to the small gathering of trinkets he had received for Christmas. A barely finished still life from Lizzy and a trio of holiday ornaments from Sarah ( _for whatever holiday you celebrate!_ ). A large homemade shelf from Malachi that sat there because Will didn’t know how to hang it up. A little packet of science and plant-themed sticky pads from Clarky. And lastly, his new notebook from Dr Chanler.

He had also received a nice homemade pie from Officer Morgan, the police officer that not only helped the doctor adopt Will, but was also one of his childhood friends. But both he and Warthrop had devoured it within two days, both too involved with the ongoing research regarding the lice to do much else than toss food in the microwave and hope it turned out alright. That or eat unending bowls of cereal and cups of yoghurt.

For the most part, Will felt that he should be happy. After all, not many kids got as lucky as he did after losing their parents. Here he was able to live and work with the man that had been closest to them, and had good friends that gave him stuff for Christmas. Even Clarky, a child that was still in the foster system after a decade, didn’t get all of that. He had been ecstatic in his letter to Will, stating how happy he was to have gotten four gifts that year instead of his usual two.

But Will wasn’t completely happy. He felt a deep stab of disappointment that for all intents and purposes, he had not received a Christmas and it made Will deeply ashamed of himself. He had no right to expect such a thing. He knew that Dr Warthrop was not a man inclined towards a frivolous waste of his time, not having celebrated any other holiday that had come before. He wasn’t even sure if the man even celebrated his own birthday; there was never any mention of it.

Even more so, Will knew he had no right to feel upset over it since he had declined the chance for a home that offered to give him a completely normal life filled with a close-knit family.

The Bates (minus Mr Bates) were a cheerful and excitable lot and looked forward to normal everyday things such as piano lessons and eating together as a family. When Reggie’s birthday came along at the end of August, Mrs Bates had ensured that not only were all his friends in attendance, but that it was a day that made Reggie the happiest little boy. And when Lilly remarked that all their birthdays were like this, Will had done his best not to say anything about his own.

Rubbing his nose against his pilled pajama bottoms, Will looked back over to his little nightstand where a cloth bound notebook lay. It was his gift to Dr Warthrop, as he had no clue what the man would like besides anything to do with his all-encompassing fascination and work with his beloved parasites. So when his Language Arts teacher taught them how to create and bind their own little notebooks, Will knew exactly who he wanted to give his to.

Though Will had really wanted a full-on holiday of warmth and happiness, what Will allowed himself to hope for with all his heart was to sit down with the doctor and exchange a gift with him, like he had always done with his father. Just to see all his hard work culminating in one moment where Warthrop, losing his severe exterior for a moment of time, would look upon him with pride and then hand him a gift that he chose specifically with Will in mind. It was wishful thinking, for there was no one else in the doctor’s periphery than himself, but it was a wish that Will hoped could be real, if only for that little bit of consideration.

Now Will was stuck. He didn’t want to give the doctor his gift and have it rebuffed whether out of pride because he forgot or purposely didn’t get Will a gift himself. Or rebuffed because he didn’t like it. Both were too terrible and awkward to contemplate. He also didn’t want to _not_ give the doctor his gift because in coming to know the man, if Warthrop fully believed himself to be in the right and wondered why Will didn’t get him anything later on, then Will had fully buckle himself in for a full-ride into lecture land.

Clamping his hands tighter about his knees, Will wiggled his toes as he tried to figure out what to do. He wasn’t sleepy yet, although it was past midnight.  Everything had decided it tonight was the night to hold his anxiety hostage, and it was clamoring for attention.

Suddenly Will perked up.

He could hide it on the doctor’s bookshelf in the study! So that way if the doctor ever found it and disliked it, Will wouldn’t have to know. Or at least he hoped. Sometimes Dr Warthrop was quite vocal on his opinion of things he found distasteful.

Maybe he’d give it to Dr Kearns if he didn’t like it. Will felt a little better thinking that, not only because Kearns wouldn’t be as vocal if he didn’t like it (he’d still say something about it though), but because Kearns had been genuinely happy to receive what he had given him the first time he had to leave.

Will had a gift set aside for Dr Kearns too, if he ever came back and still wanted to even talk to him. The last time Will had ever saw the doctor’s friend, Will had yelled at him for helping him with his teacher.

Hastily setting aside the despondent thoughts, Will hopped off the bed. No use on dwelling on things he couldn’t fix.

Tucking his hands in his sleeves, Will nabbed his gift and softly made his way to the trapdoor. He carefully creaked it open and waited by the opening.

After hearing nothing but the ambient noises of the house, Will crept down the ladder and then snuck down the stairs. He hid out on the landing, noticing that there were no light fracturing the pervasive darkness below. He took that as a good sign that either the doctor had fallen asleep somewhere (highly unlikely) or was still elbows deep in his observations on his Christmas lice. After being infected with them, Will had been very wary of getting close to the creatures again, even after Warthrop vociferously pointed out that save for his own sample that they were all good and dead.

Will tiptoed down the rest of the stairs and turned into the study, easing the door open. With a quick glance, Will made his way to the huge bookcase lining the entire back wall and finding a nice little niche near the bottom filled with tons of small books, Will tucked his gift inside.

Satisfied with himself, Will let out a little pleased smile, wondering for only a second what the doctor would look like if he found it and if he liked it, but knowing he probably wouldn’t, promptly made his way back into his little chilly attic bedroom.

Leaping into bed, Will bundled himself in his blanket with a self-indulgent shiver. Even with his socks and hoodie on, Will felt like a human popsicle.

Wiggling underneath his window, Will turned to gaze outside as he allowed himself to drift towards thoughts of a new school year, towards his new elective class and how he hoped it wasn’t chorus yet, of completing his home economics final, and of seeing his friends again at school. For though he lived with the most prominent scientist in Monstrumology, there was nothing in Will’s mindset that could trump having a regular life filled with good friends and a good home.

Though it was something he kept buried deep within his heart, it couldn’t forever be hidden away like something shameful.

Will watched the cheery green of his little plant waver slightly against the chilled glass. He yawned wide, snuggling deeper into his quilt, finally warmed enough to fall asleep.

Outside the world stood still, the etchings of bare trees like fractured ice. In a chilling blink, something hovered on the verge of black.  

Will bolted upright.

There, beyond the tree line, something fled into the yard, silently tearing up the virgin snow. Then it vanished behind the garage.  

 ***

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! For those of you guys that vaguely remember the first draft of this work, the premise is still the same, but the journey is going to be much more richer. I am very excited to be working on this book as well, but due to a variety of things going on in my life, it will be much slower pacing regarding the updates than my last book! But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! Unlike the previous book, I will warn you, it does get much more darker. After all, Will finally learns to hunt...


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